


Change the Course of History

by spacestationwedding



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Abuse, Alley Sex, Arguing, Bisexual Bucky Barnes, Blood and Violence, Break Up, Captain America: The First Avenger, Cheating? Maybe?, Crying, Death, Drinking to Cope, Established Relationship, F/M, Face Slapping, Fights, Gay Steve Rogers, Heavy Angst, Kissing, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mugging, Mutual Pining, Near Death, Not in a sexy way, POV Alternating, POV Third Person Limited, Physical Abuse, Reunions, Suicide Attempt, Vaginal Sex, Verbal Abuse, no happy ending, some toxicity, tagging that just to be safe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 13:32:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15510966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacestationwedding/pseuds/spacestationwedding
Summary: The more Steve talked about it and the more people came and congratulated him, the angrier Bucky became. This wasn’t the plan, Steve was supposed to stay home, safe! Every time he’d come to Bucky, frail shoulders slumped and a blazing red “4F” clutched in his fist, Bucky would sigh with relief. The small comfort he’d had going off to war was that there was no way the army would ever let Steve actually enlist. He’d be safe in Brooklyn. And yet, he’d somehow found a way.It made him feel sick.





	1. Chapter 1

Around Bucky, the remains of the 107th cheered and hooted and hollered in response to his rousing exclamation. He didn’t participate, just glared at Steve in what he hoped was thickly veiled anger.

It’d have to wait until they were alone.

For the past three days, he and Steve had been leading the rescued men who’d been captured at Azzano back to base in amiable companionship. At first, Bucky had been delighted to have his best friend, his fella, his Stevie back. Even if he was twice as big as before. Hell, after Steve fully explained his excursion as a lab rat, he’d been happy to hear the results had been so damn good. No more would Steve get sick or hospitalized! He’d been given a second chance to actually live past his thirties!

But what had he done with it? Disobeyed orders and marched his stupid ass right into Hydra’s lair, all because he thought _maybe_ Bucky might be alive in there.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

The more Steve talked about it and the more people came and congratulated him, the angrier Bucky became. This wasn’t the plan, Steve was supposed to stay home, safe! Every time he’d come to Bucky, frail shoulders slumped and a blazing red “4F” clutched in his fist, Bucky would sigh with relief. The small comfort he’d had going off to war was that there was no way the army would ever let Steve actually enlist. He’d be safe in Brooklyn. And yet, he’d somehow found a way.  

It made him feel sick.

Eventually, the celebration died down and the survivors were hustled off to medical. Not Steve, of course, everyone knew he’d be fine. No, he had important business with the colonel while Bucky got to be fretted over and examined thoroughly by a nurse. It only gave him more time to stew in his anger.

About an hour later, he was cleared. No substantial injuries to be found, just residual ones. The ones that were nearly completely healed. The nurse let him leave with a fresh canteen of clean water, an impressed cock of an eyebrow and a cheerful smile.

Casting a surly look at everyone who tried to talk to him, he marched up to the tent he’d seen Steve duck into about ten minutes prior. It was quiet inside, and outside too. Secluded, or about as secluded as you could get on an army base. He gulped down the water before walking in, swishing and spitting the last swallow in hopes of fixing his breath. His whole body felt grimy and gritty- what he wouldn’t give for a bath. Even a cold one. It’d have to wait. He had a fella to chew out.

Before he could step in, Steve walked out. Ducking his head under the ugly green canvas of his tent, because he was just that tall now. God, Bucky hated this.

“Heard ya spit,” he smiled, all soft and mindlessly, like he couldn’t help it. “That’s disgusting.”

Bucky shrugged and stepped past him. “Ya get used to it. Soldiers ain’t supposed to be pretty.”

Even Steve’s tent was stupid. His stuff hadn’t been set up yet- that’s right, they’d declared him dead just earlier today. They would have thrown his old camp to someone else.

Immediately, once the flaps of the tent were closed and they were completely alone, Steve pressed his big chest to Bucky’s and wrapped him up in his stupid big arms. It was their first embrace since the short, platonic one at the dock before Bucky boarded the boat for England. But it didn’t feel the same- Bucky had to pull his chin up so his face didn’t get squished into Steve’s collarbone, he couldn’t nose at his hair the same way, he couldn’t easily slip his arms around his waist and hold him tight. It didn’t feel like his Steve. It felt like hugging someone else.

“Missed you,” Steve mumbled into his ear. “Missed this.”

Bucky’s heart pounded in his chest. One of Steve’s hands carefully pulled him by the cheek to touch their foreheads together. With another small smile, he pulled Bucky in for the kiss.

At least that kind of felt the same.

It was tentative, sweet. A long time in the making, too. Steve was just as slow as he’d been before, taking his time in opening Bucky’s lips up to deepen it. And Bucky kissed back, trying to put aside his frustration for as long as he could. Until Steve’s hands slid down over his waist to pull him in closer by the hips.

With a start, he pulled away and put a hand on the hard plane of Steve’s chest. He wiped away some of the stray spit from his bottom lip and sat heavily on the bedroll. There was too much sitting on his chest, built up over the last three days, that he needed to get out.

“Buck? What is it?” Brows knitted in concern, Steve dropped to his knees in front of Bucky, still managing to match his height even on the floor.

Finally, it bubbled up and poured over. “What in the _fuck_ were you thinking?”

Confusion flashed over his face. “Huh?”

“When you went and got your ass enlisted, what the fuck were you thinking? Going to war when you couldn’t even lift up a gun without falling over- how’d you think you were gonna survive? God damn you, you were supposed to be at home!”

Steve frowned, opening his mouth to retort, but Bucky kept going.

“ _And then,_ your arrogant ass thought it’d be a great fucking idea to go straight into enemy lines with _no back up whatsoever!_ You could have died, they could have captured you too, you could have gotten all our asses killed! I know that serum bullshit doesn’t make you invincible, so what the fuck were you thinking?!”

“I did it to save you!”

“ _Me?!”_ Bucky stood up abruptly, glaring down at the man who was still on his knees. “You were gonna walk in there, _completely alone,_ and fight a bunch of Nazis just ‘cause I might have been in there?! What if I was _dead_ , Steve? What if all of us were dead, ‘nd you got yourself killed for nothin’? Fuck, you’re so fucking reckless!”

“Well, you weren’t dead were you?” Finally, Steve started to argue. He stood back up to his full height and sneered. “No, you were right on the edge when I found you. You sayin’ you wish I didn’t go? You wish you were still layin’ on that table, pumped up with god-knows-what and mumblin’ to yourself? I fuckin’ saved you, asshole! Don’t act like I’m the bad guy for doin’ it _._ ”

The more Steve talked, the more Bucky’s blood seemed to boil. He kept going, voice rising into a full-on yell.

“Don’t act like I don’t got a right to be pissed here! You weren’t supposed to be here, you were supposed to be at home, givin’ me somethin’ to come home to, where you were safe-”

“-excuse me for not wantin’ to be your goddamn housewife.” Steve glared and crossed his arms.

“And you certainly weren’t supposed to go and do stupid, reckless shit like this-”

“-every single fight I ever got into was reckless, I dunno what you think’s changed. Now I actually got a chance to win, how ‘bout that? And I’m gonna fuckin’ take it, never mind if it makes you mad.”

“Jesus Christ, Steve.” He ran his fingers through his greasy, overgrown hair. “Quit actin’ like every single fight you come across has gotta be yours!”

“You sayin’ I shoulda stayed here and not tried to find you, even when you were alive and in need of rescuing?!”

“Yeah! That’s exactly what I’m sayin’! You didn’t know I was alive!”

Steve scoffed and shook his head. “Fuckin’ ungrateful.”  

Something about that halted Bucky. He tried to come up with words to counter the statement, but...couldn’t. There was no way in hell he could thank Steve for what he’d done, not after yelling at him for doing it. Not after telling him he shouldn’t have done it. He wasn’t grateful to Steve, he was only grateful to the dumb luck that had gotten them both out of there alive.

“Yeah, maybe I am.” Tired of yelling and tired of dealing with this, he started to leave the tent. “I’m sick of worrying about you. This ain’t even about what happened a few days ago anymore. It’s about you always pickin’ fights and nearly gettin’ yourself killed. You ever think that maybe I don’t wanna be sittin’ around, waitin’ to hear if you’re gonna make it home in one piece? You think I wanted to clean up all your cuts and bruises and split lips, thankin’ my lucky stars that this wasn’t the fight that did you in? I shouldn’t have to think like that. And I know it’s only gonna get worse from here.”

He swallowed, a burn already forming behind his eyes. The words were there, sitting right below the surface. Why were they so easy to come to? He never thought he could say those words, much less with the ease that was coming to him now.

“So what are you saying?” Steve grabbed at his arm before he could get away. Worry etched itself into the lines of his face. Another pang shot its way through his heart when he looked into the eyes of the love of his life. He couldn’t believe he was actually going through with it.

“I’m sayin’ I’m done.”

Wrenching his arm free of Steve’s strong grasp, Bucky strode out of the tent and went back into the base.

  



	2. Chapter 2

Around Steve, the newly minted ragtag team of survivors of Azzano saluted him loudly. With a grin, he stood to order another round for the lot before hearing something that stopped him in his tracks. 

“Hey, Sarge! You gonna get in on this?” 

Monty turned around and tugged on Bucky’s sleeve behind him. Steve took him in, sweeping his eyes over his fella. He was hunched over the bar, pointedly ignoring Steve and trying to avoid everyone else. A very full tumbler of whiskey was clutched in his hand like he feared someone would take it away from him. At the question, he turned slowly and took in the group. They all waited eagerly for a response. 

“Sure, I’ll let ‘im buy me a drink.” 

The group laughed, while Bucky’s eyes flitted over to Steve apprehensively. 

“That ain’t what we’re askin’!”

“C’mon, Barnes, you know you wanna fight with us!”

“Join the group, will ya!”

Steve tried to fix his face into something apologetic, something accepting and willing to work through their problems. He knew Bucky was just giving him a little cold shoulder because he was mad. He always did, it wasn’t anything serious. Never had been. They’d always survived through it once Bucky had a chance to cool off. Steve had waited patiently for days, waited for Bucky to come back to him and give him a chance to apologize. 

They’d get back to normal in no time. 

Clenching his jaw before throwing back three long gulps of his whiskey, Bucky finally relented.

“I’m in.”

They hooted and hollered even louder, banging their empty glasses and mugs onto the table. Laughing, Steve went to the bartender and gestured for five more drinks.

“Oh, and lemme get another for my-” He turned and looked for Bucky down the bar, but just found an empty seat and drained glass where he had been. “Ah, nevermind. Just the beers.”

A few minutes passed while he chatted and made rough plans with his new men. Even so, he was distracted. He wanted to talk to Bucky, to make sure they were on good terms before they started any missions together. He wanted to apologize and see if Bucky was ready to apologize too.

Steve made his excuses and promised to meet them all in the morning. He left the pub and stepped into the chilly evening air. They were technically on leave, so they’d been set up in a safe house down the street. Maybe Bucky had turned in for the night and gone there. He turned right on the street and started the walk. 

Only a few paces in, he heard noises coming from the alley ahead. Breathy moans and a man’s heavy panting. Used to hearing that after years of living in the trashiest part of Brooklyn, Steve ducked his head and hurried forward to ignore it. The tips of his ears still pinked up a bit at the sounds the man was making. 

It wasn’t until he actually got to the alley that he heard something that made him stop in his tracks.

“Ah, fuck!” 

That voice- it was distinctly Bucky’s. 

He whipped his head right, towards the sound. Sure enough, it was Bucky, his dark blue coat laying on a pile of crates for the dame he was screwing to bend over them without getting her dress dirty. His head was thrown back, hips snapping forward into the girl brutally. Her blonde hair swung wildly with each one. She was whining and meeting his thrusts eagerly, begging for more in between moans. Steve could see the shape of her bottom jiggling with each snap of his hips where her dress was rucked up. 

Suddenly, he felt sick to his stomach. He felt his heart stop, and then start thundering wildly in his chest. It was so loud, he thought it might even be audible to the otherwise preoccupied couple. 

Having seen enough, he stared at the ground once more and shuffled forward again. He wasn’t really sure where his destination was anymore, so long as it was away from what he’d just seen. Hollowness in his heart, he tried to ignore the burning wetness behind his eyelids and just kept walking. 

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

Dropping his meager bag of supplies, Bucky shut the door to his tiny bedroom in some farm town in France. Exhausted, he pulled out his pack of smokes and clunky silver lighter to try and relax a little. It had been a long week of travel to their second Hydra base, trying to keep themselves hidden and rumors of their location at bay. Laying on the bed and taking a long drag of the cigarette, he closed his eyes and just let himself float mindlessly. 

He’d gotten through half of the cig before there were heavy footsteps outside and a gentle knock on his door. There was only one person capable of both those extremes. He sighed and set down his smoke on the ashtray on the nightstand. 

“Come in,” Bucky managed tiredly. There was a beat before the door opened and Steve, the big lug, worked his way into the room. “Somethin’ you need?”

“Yeah,” Steve stood awkwardly in the doorway before deciding to shut the door. He clicked the lock a couple of times, frowning when it didn’t stick.

“Lock’s broken,” he mumbled a little bitterly. That didn’t deter Steve, he just turned around and grabbed the desk chair to stick under the handle. Bucky rolled his eyes and sat up on the bed.

Steve took a step forward and a deep breath in. “I need to talk to you.” 

With what he hoped was an icy glare, he gestured for Steve to continue. 

“Last time we talked...when you said you were done…” He shifted awkwardly onto his other foot, making the floorboards creak under his weight. “Did you really mean that you were done with me?”

Confused, Bucky nodded. “I ended our relationship,” he muttered lowly. Steve ran a hand through his hair and turned, huffing out a little noise. “Oh- you thought-”

“-I thought you were just throwin’ another one of your temper tantrums.” He bit out and turned back, eyes already rimmed with red. His skin had a flush, too, but not the kind that used to make Bucky desperate to kiss him. No, this time it was anger and the tears that were working their way out. 

Sighing, he grabbed his cig and took another deep drag, trying to keep himself calm. 

“Seemed like you understood what I was sayin’.”

“How?!” He stepped in closer, getting right up in Bucky’s face. “Jesus, if I’da known you were breakin’ up with me, I wouldn’t have just let you leave! You think I wouldn’t fight like hell to keep you from doin’ that?”

“Ain’t that the problem, Steve?” He dropped the butt back into the ashtray, blowing the last of the smoke into the other’s face. “All you do is fight, ‘nd I’m tired of worryin’ about you. ‘S easier this way. ‘S easier if I don’t care about you so goddamn much.”

Of course, breaking up hadn’t made him stop caring. Not by a long shot. But Steve didn’t need to know that.

“You-God, I can’t fuckin’ believe you!” Steve straightened, seemingly at a loss for words. “All this time, we been together  _ all this time _ , then I go and save your life, and that’s what makes you leave me?!”

“The fuck d’you want me to say? ‘Ooh, Stevie, thank you so much for running into a Hydra base all by yourself and saving me. I’m just a poor damsel that needs my man to come and rescue me! I’m gonna kiss the ground Captain America walks on because he saved my life!’ Sorry, but it doesn’t work like that! I don’t work like that,” he said firmly. “At the end of the day, you did somethin’ stupid, and you’re gonna keep doin’ somethin’ stupid until one day it kills you. And I ain’t gonna let it hurt me when you do. So no, I ain’t gonna thank you. Matter of fact, fuck you! Shoulda left me in that hellhole to die. Rather be dead there than here, arguin’ with your stupid ass. Fuck you.”

That did it. After years of friendship and an eventual relationship, it all finally came to a head at that moment. Sure, they’d had arguments and fights and, as Steve had mentioned, “temper tantrums.” But nothing that had made Steve’s spitfire attitude boil over into actual blows. Until then. 

At first, he’d just heard the crack. But then he realized that he was no longer looking towards Steve, but staring down at the lumpy pillow next to his hip. And then the pain blossomed, surprisingly hot and sharp over his left cheek. 

The son of a bitch had backhanded him. None too gently, either. Seemed he wasn’t yet accustomed to having as much strength as he did. Still went to blows with as much power as he could muster up, just out of habit. Jesus, he’d fucking slapped him!

Bucky resisted the urge to touch the spot, despite being able to feel his own rapid heartbeat in his cheek. It burned, not only with the pain, but also with a shred of shame. 

Steve seemed to have instantly realized and regretted his mistake. Immediately, he was babbling out apologies and fretting over him. 

“Shit, shit- I’m sorry, Bucky, look at me. Please? Fuck, I don’t know why I did that- look at me, I’m so sorry-”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Steve reaching up to touch his cheek. He flinched away and grabbed him by the wrist.

“What the fuck was that?” He couldn’t bring his voice to much more than a whisper.

“I don’t know, fuck, I’m sorry. I… Bucky, you know I’d never…”

“But you just did,” fuck, why were his eyes welling up with tears so soon? Blinking rapidly to try and get them to go away, he focused on Steve’s face. It was screwed up, with regret and worry. “You just did.”

While he spoke, Steve threw himself onto the bed and gathered him up into an embrace. Maybe it was silly of him, but he allowed himself to be pulled onto Steve’s lap, curled up and wrapped in his arms. With a broken sob, he let the tears fall down his cheeks now that he wasn’t face to face with Steve. They were hot running down the right side of his face, but cool where his skin still burned from the strike. 

“I’m sorry,” Steve whispered. The same hand that had slapped him started running soothingly through his hair. The thought made him cry a little harder. “I’m so sorry.”

There, enveloped in a body that wasn’t Steve’s, he let out all of the tears and frustration of the past few weeks. All of the tears that he’d not allowed himself to cry, he released onto the front of Steve’s jacket. Suddenly gentle and careful again, Steve muttered apologies and reassurances into his ear and rocked him slowly while he sobbed.

“It’s okay...not gonna hurt you, I swear. Never again...I’m so sorry, baby...so sorry, I promise I ain’t ever gonna hurt you again. Please, Buck. Please believe me.”

It’d be a lot easier to be mad at him if he didn’t sound like he was choking down sobs of his own. 

How long he sat there crying, he wasn’t sure. It felt like ages, sitting there and thinking of what he’d done and what Steve had done and dissolving into a fresh round of tears every time he remembered that they were broken up. Eventually, Steve stilled and stopped murmuring to him. His hand kept threading into Bucky’s hair, massaging his scalp because he knew that was Bucky’s favorite. Bastard.

He calmed down, still clutching at the lapel of Steve’s jacket. The tears dried on his face, but his nose was all stopped up and he had to sniff disgustingly to clear it. Concentrating on bringing his breathing back to normal, he uncurled his legs and made to stand up. 

Steve let him slip out of his arms easily. The silence of the room made it clear neither was sure what to say. Bucky assumed Steve didn’t want to scare him off. Like he was a baby deer, any sudden moves and he’d dart away. 

Except this was his room. No, Steve was the one who should be going.

He crossed over to the door and wrenched the makeshift lock away. The door swung open and he looked back to see Steve sitting there, still wiping his own tears away. 

“You should leave.” His voice was wrecked from the sobbing. He sounded weak and immediately hated it. 

Steve stood and walked over to him, tail between his legs like a misbehaving puppy. He looked miserable, guilty and pleading with his eyes. Asking for forgiveness. 

“Bucky…please don’t-”

“-It’s Sergeant Barnes to you.”  He interrupted and gestured to the lamplit hallway. “Go on.” 

Steve admitted defeat and walked out. Just to prove his point, Bucky slammed the door behind him a little harder than necessary and scraped the chair back under the doorknob. 

Even though he’d just emptied himself of all the tears he had, he still sat against the door with his head in his hands, sobbing dryly. 

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

The next day, the guys asked worriedly about the rough bruise forming under his dark stubble. He’d intentionally not shaved in hopes of making the mark less noticeable, but they still pressed him about it.

Looking up at the group, he locked eyes with Steve. The man had dark circles smudged under his eyes and a permanent frown. Sighing, he made up a story.

“Got a little too friendly with one ‘a the girls at the bar last night. Her fella didn’t like it so much.” He grinned and shrugged it off good-naturedly, enough to make the guys forget about it. They bought it with a few claps of sympathy on the back. Steve had the decency to cast his gaze downward. 

Several more days passed, while they surveyed and made plans for the Hydra base in Marseilles. During the mission, Bucky tried his damnedest to avoid Steve, and it seemed like he wasn’t the only one. That made things a lot easier. As did the professional regard they had when forced to address each other; “Sergeant” or “sir”. Like they didn’t really care beyond the parameters of the mission. 

Still, once they all made it out alive with the entire factory blown to bits and regrouped, he was relieved to see him still in one piece. 

That night, they celebrated. 

There was a bar directly across the street from the inn. Convenient enough that Bucky couldn’t make an excuse not to go and have a stiff drink for his troubles of the day. 

So he knocked back six. 

In quick succession, too- for some reason, he metabolized alcohol way too soon. If he wanted to get sloppy, he had a short window to achieve it. After slamming down the seventh shot glass, he made his excuses. Long day, sore limbs, gotta get up early to clear out. The men waved him on, teasing and throwing jabs. He left with a small stumble and a wide grin on his face. 

What he didn’t notice, however, were the two men that followed him out.

Mindlessly, he threw on his coat and made his way onto the street. He crossed, mindful of a stray car that might run him over if he wasn’t quick enough. It wasn’t until he stood near the alley beside the inn that two rough hands grabbed him by the arms and pulled him into it. 

“Hey, what th-” 

The bigger of the two slammed him against the brick wall and held him in place while the other patted down his pockets in search of valuables. Someone’s hand clapped over his mouth, and didn’t let up even when he bit at it furiously. The smaller one came up gleefully with his wallet, already whispering instructions to take their leave in French. 

It seemed like it was over for Bucky, until Steve showed up. 

With a well-placed kick to the back of the knee of the man pinning Bucky to the wall, he took down the big one. Bucky turned and watched as he slammed his elbow in between the smaller one’s shoulder blades, knocking him into the wall the same way Bucky had just been. 

“Drop it,” he muttered lowly, like he was already tired of fighting. When the other didn’t unclench his fist, Steve pressed harder with his elbow. “Do it.”

Bucky watched his tattered leather wallet fall onto the dirty cobblestone ground. He ducked to pick it up, but not before aiming a punch of his own to his mugger’s kidney. Pursing his lips, Steve shoved the man to the ground on top of his already prone accomplice. 

Silently, together, they left the two groaning in the alley. 

Tucking his wallet back into his pocket, Bucky followed Steve into the safety of the inn. He ignored the pounding of his heart. Even though he knew he should just go upstairs and find his room, something possessed him to drop heavily into the armchair across from Steve in the common room. He figured he deserved a smoke anyway, after what had just happened. 

Sprawling his legs out, he lit up and released a long, thin trail of smoke. Steve seemed surprised to see him, but accepted his company all the same. 

“Saw ‘em follow you outta the bar.  Figured they’d be trouble.” He muttered just as quietly as before. His low voice still rang out in the quiet of the otherwise empty room. “Wasn’t doin’ any favors ‘cause it was you specifically, I swear.”

Taking him in, Bucky cocked his head. “I know that. You’d’ve done the same thing if I were a damn stranger.” Steve nodded, so he flicked the ash from his cigarette and let it rest between his lips. He sighed, knowing he had to say it even if he didn’t particularly want to. “Thank you.”

Steve simply nodded, then looked him over. “You alright? Didn’t rough you up too bad?”

He shook his head. “‘M fine. Bit of a buzzkill, though.” 

Another silence fell over them. It was undoubtedly awkward, given that their last few encounters had been full of anger and passion and fury. Bucky smoked through his cigarette, slowly calming down and growing more relaxed without the buzz of alcohol and adrenaline. As the night grew deeper, more patrons of the inn passed with an increasing desire for the warm beds. When they walked in, he’d turn his head to observe them, but was acutely aware of Steve watching him. 

The clock above the mantle showed eleven when Steve abruptly stood up. Still as silent as ever, he nodded once to Bucky and trod up the stairs with the old wood creaking in protest. Ten seconds passed before he sprang up to follow. 

It didn’t make sense, none of it. Why couldn’t he just leave Steve alone? It wasn’t like he was unjustified in ending things between them, at least not anymore. They could have it so much easier, pretending like nothing romantic ever happened. Go their separate ways and find girls and make lives for themselves. 

Except Bucky’s heart hurt at that thought. 

He took the stairs two at a time and navigated the narrow hallway until he found Steve, just opening the door to his room. A look of surprise flashed briefly over his face. It wasn’t until they were face to face that Bucky realized he didn’t have any idea what he was doing, what to say, or any kind of plan at all. 

“You okay?” Steve murmured and stepped in close, taking him by the elbow. 

“I-” he panted.  _ Love you. _

It seemed he didn’t need to say any more than that. Without halting, Steve pulled him into his arms and their faces met in an unexpected kiss. He let his eyes fall shut and moved with him. Rough, all tongue and teeth and hands grabbing for more. A low groan rumbled in Bucky’s chest. He walked them both into the room, without breaking their kiss, and kicked the door closed with his foot.

He kept pawing at Steve, feeling and mapping out his new body with more deliberation than before. Pressed up against the door, Bucky allowed himself to be kissed within an inch of his life. Taken, rather than given. It was vastly different to the milder, more romantic adoration that Steve used to treat him with. 

Maybe that was because he was no longer a sure thing. 

That didn’t matter; what mattered was getting his mouth on Steve. Licking into him, tasting, nipping at his bottom lip and swallowing all the low, desperate sounds he made. One of Steve’s hands crept down his thigh, and then the other as well, and then with an undignified squawk of surprise, Bucky was actually  _ lifted  _ and balancing on Steve’s hips. He quickly got with the program and wrapped all four of his limbs around Steve, letting out breathy little moans to show how much he appreciated the change in position. His back was still pressed against the door, but he was pretty certain that if it wasn’t there, he could stay there with Steve’s strength alone. Jesus. 

They ground together gracelessly, too desperate to put any elegance into it. Steve kissed and bit at the column of his neck, floating up to his ear and giving it the same ministrations. God, he was quickly growing hard, and there were already some stirrings going on where Steve ground against his ass. 

It wasn’t until the hand that had hit him the other day came up to cup his recently healed cheek that he thought about stopping.

He broke away, clenching his eyes shut even tighter. With a hand on Steve’s chest, the previous fire that had burned between them fizzled out once more. 

“Put me down, please,” he whispered as calmly and nicely as he could. It felt important to not come across as angry, or upset. Because he wasn’t, really. Just...realizing that he didn’t want this. Not after what Steve had done. 

With a sad look of understanding, Steve obliged. Carefully lowering Bucky back to solid earth, and damn if that wasn’t an accurate metaphor for Bucky’s emotions at the time. Back on his own two feet, he suddenly sobered. This wasn’t right. 

Reopening the door, he tried to ignore the kicked puppy eyes Steve was giving him. 

“I’m sorry. I can’t.” 

It wasn’t until he was well and truly alone, and that fact had sunk in, that he let a single tear fall from his eye.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Steve had rolled his eyes when the team decided he and Bucky would partner up to search the train for Arnim Zola. The last thing he needed was a distraction, or for him to be more concerned with making sure Bucky wasn’t hurt.

He ended up getting distracted a lot anyways. 

The fight broke out sooner than he was expecting, but he could hold his own. Even with Bucky locked on the other car, Steve quickly took out his opponent with the ease of his shield. Without skipping a beat, he left to go help Bucky. They fought together, until the side of the train was blasted open. 

The blue rays of deadly light knocked Steve down. His shield clattered to the floor in front of Bucky. Steve watched as he dived forward and picked it up, holding it to deflect the shot from the enemy. 

He watched as it still knocked him off the side of the train.

With his mind on autopilot, he furiously fought the Hydra weapon and brought it down. One thought running through his head:  _ Bucky Bucky Bucky Bucky Buck- _

He dove to the gaping hole in the train’s wall, hoping beyond hope that somehow he’d managed to hold on. And he did; the wind of their momentum fought against Bucky’s grip on the piece of railing, but he held tight. Steve called down, determination set into his face. Stretching his long limbs as far as they’d go, he reached down to pull Bucky up. 

_ Don’t die Bucky don’t die don’t- _

Bucky reached up, missed. Reached up, grabbed on. Their hands slipped from each others grasp. 

He reached up again, grabbed onto Steve’s hand. He squeezed back, insistent. 

The shrapnel Bucky was clinging to shifted. 

Steve’s leg slipped off the floor of the train. 

With a broken screech, the shrapnel dislodged from the train entirely. Steve didn’t let go. 

He was yanked off the side of the train, too quickly to grab on with his free hand. 

Wind howled in his ears, as gravity brought him rushing down to earth. Falling is too kind a word to describe how quickly it all happened. But still, he never let go. Steve tugged on the hand still clinging to his as they fell, trying to turn them so he wasn’t on top. 

It didn’t work. 

\-----

 

He heard himself groaning in pain before he even registered the feeling. All around him, cold. The snow had stopped falling, instead lining the ground that he lay on. Like a pillow, except that it had crumbled under his weight and made him hit solid ground anyway. Cracking an eye open, he realized he had fallen face-first onto his forearm. It felt broken. 

Several other bones felt broken, too. For a while, he laid there, panting in cold, dry air and cataloging his injuries methodically. Broken arm. Cracked pelvis. Several broken ribs. Big-ass bruise on his entire front. 

The snow in front of him was pink. He watched as it grew darker. That was weird. Snow isn’t supposed to be pink. Then it turned red. The smell hit him- blood. But it couldn’t be his blood….

He remembered. Bucky. 

With a start, he sat up. Big mistake. He yelped in pain and grabbed at his various injuries wildly, each of them firing off angrily. His eyes followed the pool of blood slowly making its way towards him. 

Lying on his own pillow of snow was Bucky. Mangled, bloody. Still in the same uniform Steve had seen him in for the past few weeks. He hadn’t really gotten used to it yet, but now, laying in the bed of red, it looked nice. Just on the right side of dark. 

Bucky looked peaceful. The pretty bow of his parted lips. The dark eyelashes curling towards his cheeks. His skin was pale, but Steve figured that was from losing so much blood. He must have been out for a while, because the pool had spread pretty far. Crawling over slowly, he realized that Bucky must have initially fallen on his left side. His arm was crushed up under itself, the bones broken in at least a dozen places. It made him cringe in sympathy. 

“Bucky.” He forced out, his voice shaky. “Bucky, wake up.” 

It didn’t occur to him that he’d lost too much blood, or that Bucky didn’t have the same chances of survival as him. He just wanted him to wake up.

Looking down, he saw the drying trail of a single drop of blood coming from his nose. That was a strange place to bleed from. In his experience, people only did that if they’d been punched right in the schnoz, or if they were de-

Oh.

“Bucky,” he reached his good arm down and shook his friend by the shoulder. The right one, lest he jostle his broken arm and hurt him. More insistently this time. “Bucky. Bucky!” 

Finally, his brain started working again. Check for a pulse. He pressed two shaky fingers at the crook of Bucky’s impossibly still neck, searching. 

Nothing. Not even a weak flutter. 

He let out a sob, all of a sudden feeling the cold air around him. Bucky was cold too, colder than he ever been. His skin felt like ice, like if Steve touched him too long he’d get a burn. 

_ Duh. People are cold when they’re dead.  _ His brain supplied unhelpfully.

The memory of the night before surfaced in his mind. The warmth of the inn, the warmth of Bucky’s body pressed against his, the warmth of their lips together. The confusion of when he’d leaned in for the kiss, the even greater divide when he’d pulled away. How he’d stayed up late into the night, thinking and regretting and wanting. Missing his best friend. Missing the love of his life. 

Hot tears fell down his face as he realized how fucking stupid he’d been. Fighting, breaking up, hurting Bucky when all he’d ever wanted to do was love him. It was all stupid. He knew that one day, either of them could die unexpectedly. But rather than try to make up and love him again, he’d done irreparable damage to their relationship and ruined it. 

And now Bucky was dead, and he’d never get another chance.

Crying huge, painful, ugly sobs, he lowered his face to Bucky’s chest and let it out. Every gasping breath he took made his broken ribs stab into his lung, but he couldn't care. Even that didn’t hurt as much as holding Bucky’s lifeless body in his arms. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. His only hope was that somewhere, invisible to him, Bucky was listening. “I’m sorry. I love you. I’ll always love you. I’m so sorry.”

He didn’t respond. Even in death, he was pretty. 

“I should have listened to you. I should have never- oh god, I should have given you so much more. You deserve so much more. I’m sorry. You deserve the world, and I should have given it to you. Fuck, I’m sorry.”

Choking back his sobs, Steve lowered his lips onto Bucky’s cold, blue ones. They didn’t feel the same, unmoving. Every time he’d kissed him, Bucky would always kiss back. Always. 

But he didn’t. Couldn’t. 

Whimpering like a child, he laid his head on his oldest friend’s chest. The decision to stay there didn’t come immediately. But after staring at his love’s face for hours, he noticed the snow had started again. Thick and heavy, colder than before. Steve watched as it built upon his arm. If he wanted to move, he’d have to do it soon so he wasn’t buried under it. 

But where would he go? How could he leave Bucky?

It wasn’t such a bad place to die, he figured. Quiet. Peaceful. With the one he loved. 

No. He couldn’t move. His injuries might heal themselves, but the starvation would do him in eventually. Or maybe the frigid air would take him. That was how he wanted to go. Let the snow fall, no matter how long it took. Let the cold envelop him until it took his life from his body. It didn’t matter anymore. 

How much time passed before they found him, he didn’t know. He’d stopped thinking by that point, just feeling the cold and the solid weight of the man below him. Their black boots trudged right up next to his face. His brain was on its way out, barely even registering the gleeful German and triumphant whooping. He couldn’t even fight back when they pried his frozen body from Bucky’s. 

They dragged him away, with promises of creating a greater world together.

 

**Author's Note:**

> okay, this is gonna rip your hearts out but idc it hurt me to write it so soz in advance  
> it's not like anything i've ever really written before so concrit is really appreciated :)


End file.
